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Our scene looks like it’s been plucked right out of a fairytale. Well, a dirty fairytale.
The video suddenly freezes and the Wi-Fi connection is lost, so I set down the tablet. Standing up, I head into the foyer, where Michael has made it his personal mission to have my usual flowers delivered every day.
Today’s black roses are the most stunning yet, and he’s left a handwritten card in red ink.
Meredith,
I’ve enjoyed the last few days with you immensely.
I wish they could last for longer, but they can’t.
What we’ve had is now over…
–M
I laugh and make a mental note to tell him that he could’ve left off that last clause. For some weird reason, he’s been closing his flower notes on a more ominous tone lately. I feel like he’s still struggling to nail the ‘romance’ part of a relationship, but his attempts are what make me love him even more.
Wanting to find him in the hotel, I walk over to the suite’s entry door, but it’s locked. I try again, but it doesn’t budge. I walk over to the other entry door, but it’s even more stubborn. It doesn’t move an inch.
Confused, I pick up the phone in the kitchen and hit the button for the front desk.
No dial tone. No soft and annoying elevator music. Nothing.
Ugh. Is their entire system down?
Returning to the bedroom, I search for my cellphone so I can call Michael, but it’s not where I left it.
All of his things are gone, and the luggage I left in the closet is nowhere to be found. Even my custom wedding ring, which I left on the nightstand, is long gone.
What the hell is going on?
Before I can run through a list of possibilities, the door swings open and Michael walks into the room.
“You know, I was beginning to think that I’d woken up in the Twilight zone,” I say.
“Why’s that?”
“The Wi-Fi isn’t working, I can’t find my phone, and the front desk’s customer line isn’t working.” I smile as he pulls me into his arms. “Now that I think about it, though…You did tell me that we’d already extended this trip by a few days too long. Should I take my missing luggage as a sign that you’ve already packed it away?”
“Something like that.” He runs his fingers through my hair and looks into my eyes. “Did you read my note that came with your flowers?”
“Yeah, very ominous and dark.” I laugh. “It works because it’s you, but if it was anyone else, I’d be telling her to run.”
“I see.” He doesn’t laugh with me.
“Did you take my ring to get polished or something?” I ask. “Please tell me you have it and not someone from housekeeping.”
He continues running his fingers through my hair, not saying a word for several seconds. “I made two separate plans for this moment,” he says. “You won’t need the ring if I go with Option B…”
“Huh? Option what?” I furrow my brow. “Have you had too much to drink or something?”
He ignores my question, proposing a different one instead. “Do you trust me, Meredith?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” he says, lowering his voice. “If I’m going to go with the better option, I need you to promise me that you’ll continue to trust me for the next few months. At least four.”
“I just vowed to trust you for a lifetime.”
“True trust, Meredith.” He rolls his eyes. “Not that flowery bullshit we recited at our wedding. True fucking trust.”
“Come again?” I step back, completely confused. “Those weren’t lies on my end. Every word I said was true.”
“Good to know,” he said, pulling me back into his arms and slowly returning the wedding ring to my finger. “I need you to remember that when things change between us. Just know that whatever I do is in your best interest, that I may have fucked up, but this is my way of making up for it.”
“Michael, you’re not making any sense. I don’t know what the—” My breath catches in my throat as I witness him pulling out a massive syringe and pressing a long needle into my neck.
What the fuck? Screaming, I try to push him away, but he tightens his grip around my waist as the needle continues to pierce my skin. He keeps his eyes on mine as the venom slips further into my veins, holds me so hard that I can no longer attempt to move.
I try to scream a little louder, call out for help, but it’s no use. My voice becomes hoarser as the seconds pass, and my fingers become limp and lose their grip.
My vision blurs and the room begins to spin. Everything swirls into one hazy green image—the pained look in Michael’s eyes, and then my heartbeat slows.
Everything is black…
* * *
The next time my eyes open, my head is aching and I feel as if I’ve been hit by a mack truck. I’m in the backseat of a car, wrapped up in what appears to be a goddamn rug.
